Two Brothers
by emebalia
Summary: "I didn't expect to see Sam again. For sure I didn't expect him to die on my operation table." NOT a death!fic, sequel to "Fellowship of the Nine". Season 8.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** This is the sequel to "Fellowship of the Nine". I don't think it's necessary to read that one first, this chapter will give you everything you need to know, but it can't hurt either.

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**Two Brothers**

Ghosts were real. I had learned that lesson the hard way. Life shattering, three friends dead hard way.

Only four of us were still there, Eric, Andrea, Brenda and me, Luis, and every time we saw each other after that horrible weekend it reminded us of what had happened. Of how our normal little lives weren't that normal anymore. We had caught a glimpse behind the curtain and we had to live with that. We stayed friends but we didn't fight the forces driving us apart.

Eric and Andrea moved away, away from California, to different parts of the country. I saw them a few times but our visits became more and more infrequent until we stopped seeing each other completely.

I on the other hand couldn't just move on with my life like nothing had happened and neither could Brenda. We wanted, needed to know. Not necessarily about ghosts but about Sam Winchester who used to be our friend at Stanford and about his brother Dean.

Imagine our surprise when we found out that Dean was dead. Shot in a bizarre case of tortured and murdered young women.

Imagine our surprise when we found another familiar name. Becky Warren, Dean's last victim and the only one who had survived.

Becky hadn't been a close friend of mine but she and her brother Zach had been good friends with Sam and Jess.

Brenda and I paid her a visit. Becky was happy to see us but clammed up when we asked about Dean Winchester who had been shot in her living room, who had kidnapped and tortured her. At least that was the official version. A version I would have believed before that one weekend. Becky told us her story the same way I'd told the official version of my story a hundred times by then.

Brenda and I shared a look and then took the risk and told her our truth. Then Becky told us her truth. Apparently ghosts weren't the only evil things out there.

After that Brenda and I agreed to not dig any farther. I for my part didn't want to know what else was out there. I couldn't do what Sam and his brother did and I had no idea of how to handle the stuff I already knew.

What I knew was that I couldn't go back to my college life as if nothing had changed. Physics had been my thing, the unbreakable laws that define our universe, but after seeing those unbreakable laws easily been broken it had become a farce.

To be honest, I had been pretty useless back in that cabin. I'd been good at accusing Dean of horrible things but otherwise? Not so much.

But one thing was stuck in my head. The way Sam had put stitches in his brother's flesh, calm and concentrated, like it was daily business. For him it probably was.

I couldn't go out and fight ghosts and shapeshifters but if somebody asked "Is there a doctor in the house?" I could be the guy standing up with a confident "Yes!"

I switched to medicine and became a doctor. Doctor Luis Waiden, sounds good, doesn't it?

My life after that was … restless, I think. Never was with a girl longer than a few months, never stayed in one place longer than a few years. I stayed in contact with Brenda, more or less, but never really made friends with anyone besides that.

Do I hear you say trust issues? One of my closest friends had murdered his girlfriend who had been another good friend of mine. I'd believed him when he'd said he was innocent. Later she became a vengeful spirit and tried to kill all of us. Good thing another close friend of mine turned out to be a professional ghost hunter. Let's just say, I became careful with choosing my friends.

I kept an ear out for Sam, though. I was in shock when I heard he died in that gas explosion. Didn't believe in the blood thirsty psychopaths the news wanted us to think the Winchester brothers were.

Instead I bemoaned the loss of a good friend.

Years later both Winchesters were all over the news again. Two maniacs on a killing spree. Didn't believe that either. I thought of a shapeshifter buried with Dean's face under Dean's name in St. Louis.

When the news came that those things were dead, I breathed in relief but I doubted that the real Sam and Dean Winchester were still alive out there. They had been declared dead twice so far, Dean even three times, and c'mon how often can you fool the authorities? A part of me still hoped they were out there but when I didn't hear anything in quite a while I was convinced that my friend Sam Winchester was dead.

I didn't expect to see him again.

For sure I didn't expect him to die on my operation table.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**_ I have a medical background but trauma surgery is not my area of expertise. I'm trying my best here but if something like this happens to you, you should better ask a doctor for advise._

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Okay, two things about Sam Winchester dying on my table. One, at that point of time I didn't know it was him who was bleeding out on me and two, we managed to shock him back to life. Both times.

But let's start at the beginning. It was a quiet day in the ER. A teenager who had thought he could skateboard came in with his arm broken and we had an elderly woman with a heat stroke, nothing serious. It was the middle of the week and just after noon so I didn't expect drunken bar brawlers with bleeding noses and broken teeth. It wasn't quite time for summer vacation so city slicker season was just about to start. That was the common name the townsfolk had for people who arrived with a shitload of camping gear, most of it still with price tags, but didn't even have the right boots for a hiking trip.

Nancy, our head nurse, had called me city slicker my first day in this hospital a year ago. At least I wasn't dumb enough to wear flip-flops out in the woods like the girl coming in with a broken ankle my second day at work.

So when the bear attack came in that was my first thought. City slicker. Another idiot who tried to hug Yogi Bear.

Nancy and Chris, the nurses running the ER that day, rushed in with a bloody mess on a gurney. While I checked the pupil reflexes with a little light and tried to get any kind of response from our patient, Nancy filled me in. Male, around thirty, bear attack, brought in by his brother. His blood pressure was down, he had more blood on the outside than the inside, and he crashed the first time before we even reached the operation area. Got him back but that bastard waited until I thought "last try" while the paddles were charging.

We pumped several blood packs in his system and I had to fight hard to fix the biggest leaks to prevent him from bleeding out immediately again.

The bear got him good, nearly gutted him. How he was still alive was beyond me. The claws had missed the big arteries otherwise he would have bled out within a few minutes after the attack, so there he'd been lucky. Broken rips with one puncturing his lung, ruptured spleen, nicked small intestine and blood leaking out everywhere. Skull and spine looked good on the x-ray but I told Nancy to make a note to keep an eye on the intracranial pressure. He had taken a blow to the head and had at least a concussion. He didn't need a hematoma slowly building up pressure inside his skull on top of that.

He flatlined once more during surgery but in the end we managed to stabilize him. To be honest, I didn't expect him to survive the operation.

I left it to Nancy and Chris to clean up our patient and to transfer him to the ICU while I used the time to clean up myself and get out of the by then bloody up the elbows operation gown. Operations like that weren't daily business in a small town like this, I'd seen worse frequently in the six months I'd worked in an ER in New York, but they took their toll. Broken bones, an appendicitis, those were things a surgeon could get used to. It was routine to me. But having somebody's life literally in my hands? That never got old. During the operation I was calm and focused but afterward I always needed a few minutes to get my shit together.

Bracing myself on the sink I took a few breaths and then splashed some water in my face. After a minute or two I had myself under control again and in my head I was already searching for the right words to say to the patient's family I was sure was waiting outside.

On my way out I checked in with Nancy but so far our patient was stable and that was the best we could hope for at that time. I had to look up the name, Sam Carter, and then I went for the waiting area.

It was a quiet day and there was only one man sitting in one of that awful plastic chairs, bouncing his knees and tapping his fingers on top of them. He had his head tilted back resting it at the wall and he had his eyes closed so he hadn't noticed my yet.

I was about to open my mouth to ask him if he was family of Sam Carter but the words died on my lips.

I knew this man. It took me a second to place that face, c'mon I didn't expect a supposed to be dead man sitting in my waiting room, but then it hit me like a train. Dean Winchester.

It felt like a lifetime since I'd seen him in person, back in my college days, but the memory was still fresh and of course had I seen pictures of him online. Mugshots of a wanted criminal, hunted by the FBI, pictures of a dead man. He and his brother Sam were officially dead and still, there he was sitting right in front of me.

But that meant something else. Sam. Sam Carter was Sam Winchester, my old college buddy Sam. _That_ realization nearly knocked me over.

I had shone a light right in his eyes and I hadn't recognized him. Granted he was older now and his face had been mostly covered by an oxygen mask but still. Once he'd been one of my closest friends and I hadn't recognized him.

I had shocked my friend back to life twice and I had been that close to not charge the paddles that one more time. Sam could have died under my hands. Could still die. Oh, God.

Of course that was the moment Dean opened his eyes and noticed me. I missed when he got up and approached me, he was just suddenly there in front of me but he kept a respectful distance.

"Doctor?" He asked and even through my shock I heard the fear behind that one word. Slowly I looked up meeting his eye. However, before I could say something all color left his face and he stumbled backwards. I'd never been good at steeling my features no wonder Dean could read my raw emotions on my face.

"No." He shook his head in denial. "No, no. NO!"


	3. Chapter 3

"No." He shook his head in denial. "No, no. NO!"

He emphasized the last word with a chair kicked through the room. Still tangled up with my own realization about the situation it took me a second to get what he must be thinking.

"No, Dean." I tried to get his attention but he was facing the other way, fisting his hair with both hands. "Dean, he's alive. Sam is alive. Dean!"

Behind me I heard somebody rushing in our direction, maybe Chris coming for the noise.

"Everything alright?" It was Chris skittering around the corner and coming to a sudden halt when he noticed the chair laying upside down in the corner. Eying Dean he was clearly considering calling security. I couldn't blame him for that because Dean looked worse to wear. He was still covered in dried blood, it was even in his hair, and his clothes were ragged as if he had a close encounter with the bear himself.

"I got this." Without looking at him I waved at Chris to leave us alone.

"Dean, you hear me? Sam is alive." I emphasized every word and finally they went through to him. Slowly he turned, eyes glistening but his murderous gaze settled on me like I'd done this on purpose. Like I let him believe his brother was dead for my own entertainment. I tried to hold his gaze without squirming.

"He is?" For a second his features softened.

"Yes, he is." I said and breathed easier when that murder in his eyes didn't return. "He is still critical but stable at the moment." We were alone so there was no point in going to my office to do this in private. I just got the chair out of the corner and set down and gestured for him to have a seat next to me.

He listened to me while I explained Sam's condition to him and then he asked his own questions. He didn't use medical terms but he was worried about a pneumothorax and a subdural hematoma. Dean knew that intestinal damage could cause an infection in the abdomen and a ruptured spleen could mean a splenectomy. I hadn't removed the spleen but it was quite possible that I would have to do that if it started bleeding again. So far it looked good, though, and I told Dean that much.

Ages ago I had caught a glimpse of the life this man and his brother led and what Dean knew about his brother's condition just added a new piece to the puzzle. What kind of life was this? I wasn't sure if I wanted an answer to that question.

When I mentioned that the x-rays of Sam's spine and head looked good he somewhat sheepishly asked if I'd found something weird. When I denied he hurried to change the topic but I made a mental note to have a closer look at those pictures.

"Can I see him?" Dean stood up, this was obviously not a question.

"Sure. He should be all set up in the ICU by now." I stood as well. "This way, Dean."

Maybe he had been distracted earlier, understandable when he'd thought his brother was dead, but now he noticed.

"I didn't tell you my name." He stopped behind me.

"You probably don't recognize me." I explained. "But we've met before." It was meant to put him at ease but it had the opposite effect. Hands loosely at his sides, a wary eye on me and suddenly I wondered if he was armed.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Luis Waiden, I was friends with Sam in college." I felt the urge to back off but forced myself to stay where I was. "You were snowed in with us and we were attacked by a ghost."

For a second it looked like he didn't remember. To me it had been a life changing experience but what had it been to him? I didn't want to think about that.

"The staircase pusher. Dead chick under the floorboards." He nodded. Was that how he remembered things like this? Dead chick under the floorboards? She wasn't just a dead chick, she'd been my friend for Christ's sake. Then he had a closer look at me and I wondered what he remembered about me. I hadn't been the nicest person around back then.

"I remember you." He said and I had no idea if that was a good or a bad thing. "What are you going to do now?"

"Ehm, take you to your brother?"

The wary expression stayed on his face and he didn't move to follow me.

"Yeah, my brother. Sam _Carter_."

"Oh?" Cut me some slack, the whole situation was surreal. "Oh!"

Looking around to make sure that Chris was out of earshot and nobody else was around I stepped closer and lowered my voice.

"As far as I'm concerned we're talking here about my old college buddy Sam Carter." I reassured him. "I'm not going to bust you."

He studied my face for long seconds probably searching for a lie but there was none. I wanted Sam to get better and I wanted to take Dean to him, that was all.

"Sam's waiting." I turned and this time he followed me without questions. I didn't take him straight to the ICU, though. Instead I pointed at the door of one of our bathrooms.

"I can't let you any farther the way you look. You look like you need a doctor yourself." I stopped. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No." _And stop asking stupid questions_, hung unspoken in the air.

"Okay. Wash your hands and face, try to get the blood out of your hair, too, while I'll fetch you something to wear."

He pondered that for a moment and looked down at his blood crusted hands.

"Whatever."

Five minutes later Dean stood in front of the door separating him from his brother. He looked younger with the still wet hair and wearing the white nurse outfit I'd borrowed from Chris.

"This will probably look bad." I hold him back for another second. "He's on a vent and there's a lot of stuff monitoring him."

"I know." And with that Dean opened the door. His gaze flashed over the monitors and it seemed like he was able tell if something was off.

Then, with a sad smile, Dean stepped closer to the bed and took in the sight of his brother. Most of the damage was hidden under the blanket and thick bandages but the tube in his mouth was hard to miss. Neither were the wires coming out from under the blanket leading to various machines.

"Hey, Sammy."


	4. Chapter 4

I gave Dean a moment with his brother while I checked Sam's vitals. Dean dragged a chair to the bedside and made himself comfortable, eyes never leaving his brother. The only sounds in the room were the whoosh of the vent and the beeping of the monitors showing Sam's vitals.

When I'd made sure that everything was like it should be I had my first real look at Sam.

"Doc?" Dean asked, holding on to Sam's hand which lay lax in his. "Everything okay with Sammy?"

I nearly burst out laughing. Back in college Sam had insisted on being called Sam. Nobody had made the mistake of calling him Sammy twice and the smart ones not even once. I remembered how shocked I'd been when I'd heard Dean using that nickname. And Sam hadn't protested. But back then we had barely been older than teenagers. The man lying in front of me now had grown out of being anything remarkable Sammy-like years ago.

"Doc?" Dean repeated now with rising anxiety.

"Everything looks good." I reassured him. "It's just … I didn't recognize him earlier." I shook my head not sure how I felt about the whole situation.

"When is he going to wake up?"

"Not for a while." I answered honestly. "We are keeping him under at least until tomorrow to give his body time to heal. By then he hopefully can breathe on his own. He'll wake up in his own time."

Dean nodded as if that was exactly what he'd expected. I didn't point out that Sam wasn't out of the woods just yet or that he was a fighter and Dean seemed to appreciate that. No point in stating the obvious, I guess.

"Thanks, doc." Dean's eyes never left Sam and with his thumb he constantly stroke the back of Sam's hand. I doubted it was mainly for Sam's comfort.

"Luis, please." I insisted. "Sam's my friend."

"Thanks, Luis." Now he looked at me with a sad smile and I wondered how I could have ever thought bad of him. He had the eyes of a lost little boy. Like everything he had was lying in that bed and he would have no idea what to do if he lost his brother.

"I'll leave you two alone." I nodded at their entwined hands. "Keep doing that. Talk to him. He may not respond but it helps."

For a second he looked like he wanted to drew back, caught holding hands with his brother, but then he nodded and hold on to Sam.

"I'll check in again later." I promised and with that I left the room. Dean didn't even seem to notice.

Outside I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

"You okay?"

I hadn't noticed Nancy coming down the hallway.

"Yeah." I managed an eloquent answer while I tried to get my emotions under control. Seeing my old friend in bed like that, it had riled me up.

Nancy raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It's just." I scrubbed my face. "I know him … Sam … we went to college together … have been roommates … I haven't recognized him earlier …"

"Oh my." Nancy's hand was on my shoulder instantly. "I'm sorry. Are you okay? I can call Dr. Morgan in, she can take over."

"No, I'm fine." I hurried to say. "The worst part is over anyway. With any luck he's going to heal nicely without complications." I tried a smile. "But could you, you know, keep an eye on him and his brother? They are friends."

"Of course." And with that the Winchesters were in for some mother henning. Now my smile felt real.

It was getting late but I wasn't quite ready to go home just yet. Instead I retreated to my office and had a real look at Sam's file. So far I'd only been interested in the medically relevant facts, now I was reading between the lines.

There was an address but I doubted Sam really lived there. Next of kin was, not surprisingly, Dean Carter and there was no other name listed as an emergency contact.

No allergies, no current medication. A few older injuries, broken bones and a head trauma, but no farther information on when or where that had happened, nothing about treatment. The list didn't even start to cover the old and new scars I'd seen on Sam's body during the surgery. I remembered how Sam had stitched up a gash in Dean's thigh a long time ago, that had been the reason I became a doctor so of course I remembered, and I guessed for them hospitals were only a last resort.

Thinking of Dean I took out the x-rays I'd mentioned earlier and strapped them to the light screen. At first I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. The spine still looked fine, two broken ribs which I'd fixed during the operation, nothing caught my eye if I didn't count the callused lines indicating older fractures. I had to actually search for something weird but when I'd found it I couldn't not see it. Just like those pictures that look like spilled coffee at first but then you see a face and you wonder how you could have missed it in the first place.

There were lines, scars, all over Sam's ribs, so many it was hard to make them out. They were old and faded out but they were there. Like somebody had taken a scalpel and had carved – What? Symbols? – into the bones. Taken aback I stepped back from the screen. That was impossible. At least to somebody still alive. To do that you'd have to lay the bones bare. No way somebody could have survived something like that. Impossible.

Yeah, just like ghosts and shapeshifters, I thought and for the first time I wondered if it really had been a bear that had attacked Sam. And if it was still out there.

I turned the screen off, this was a puzzle to solve later, grabbed my things and headed out. I stopped at the ICU to check on Sam, though. Dean was still sitting right next to his brother, holding his hand and talking in a low voice to him. I felt like an intruder so I left as quietly as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

When I checked in early the next morning I found the brothers in the exact same position I'd left them. Sam hadn't moved over night but he wasn't supposed to anyway. Dean sat slumped down in that awful chair which didn't get more comfortable after a few hours, I bet. His head rested in a painful angle on the back of the chair and he had his feet propped up on the corner of Sam's bed. Dean had brought the chair close enough to the bed, though, so that he was still able to hold Sam's hand even while both brothers were asleep.

I got the feeling that Dean wouldn't leave his brother's side any time soon so I left the room without waking him and went to the cafeteria to at least bring him some coffee. He accepted it with a tired smile.

The day was busy but I made sure to check on Sam a few times. There was always a cup of coffee within Dean's reach and around noon he was absently chewing on a sandwich when I entered the room. As far as I knew he'd only left his brother's side for short trips to the bathroom and I made a mental note to thank Nancy for feeding Dean and to scold her for trying to kill him with an overdose of caffeine.

I had cut back the medication but Sam didn't wake up over the day. In the afternoon he was running a low fever and I dismissed the idea of getting him off the vent today. Tomorrow. Maybe.

"Why isn't he waking up?" Dean asked, eyes never leaving his brother's face. The worry was back in his voice and he looked tired and worn out. "Shouldn't he wake up anytime now?"

I checked Sam's vitals again and had a short glance at his file, not that there was anything new but it gave me time to find the right words. Dean wasn't somebody I wanted to agitate. And for sure not in his situation. I could be an ass, I know, but I wasn't cruel.

"He's fighting the infection in his abdomen. With the damage to his small intestine the infection is not unexpected." I explained. "So far he's doing good. The fever didn't rise and the antibiotics are doing their job"

I took in the sight of Sam with his way too pale skin and shadows under his eyes and the tube in his mouth. He didn't look like he was doing good.

"He just needs a little more time to heal before he's strong enough to put up with you again." I gave Dean what I hoped was a reassuring smile but it froze on my lips when his expression darkened. For a second I was sure that I'd gone too far with that little joke and he would kick me out of the room. Without opening the door first. When we'd met last time, during that weekend back in college, I'd been all snotty towards him and worse, I'd accused him of abusing Sam. So yeah, bad move on my part.

I opened my mouth to apologize but he beat me to it.

"He can use his beauty sleep for sure." Dean gave me a watery smile and his eyes shone conspicuously. When my pager went off a second later I took the chance to excuse myself before I got misty eyes myself. Even if Sam hadn't been a friend of mine I wanted him to come around just to see the hurt leaving Dean's eyes.

When I came in at the end of my shift Dean was still sitting in that uncomfortable chair, still wearing the borrowed clothes, still holding Sam's hand and talking softly to him and Sam still failed at responding in any way.

"You should go home." I suggested gently. "Eat something, take a shower, sleep a few hours." I said it and at the same second I knew Dean would stay the night at his brother's side. Just like the last one and every one to come until he was sure that Sam was fine.

"I'm good." He ran a hand over his tired face, by now he was sporting quite some stubble.

Knowing it was a lost cause I changed tactics. "Is there somebody who could bring you some things? Fresh clothes and such?" If they lived around here there had to be friends or neighbors who could help out but Dean just shook his head.

"We're not from here." He said. "We're staying at a motel."

That triggered a memory. After Jess' death Sam and his brother had been on a road trip for a while.

_So what are you doing nowadays? Still on that _road trip_ with your brother? _Cole's voice echoed through my mind. It was easy to blame all the venom on a dead man but back then Cole had said what I had been thinking too.

"Another road trip?" I asked and it was meant as a joke. It had been a long time since that weekend and we all grew up. Okay, Sam and Dean's life had been a lot more eventful than mine, I knew that, but you can't be on the run forever, right? With them officially dead they were free to settle down somewhere.

"Our whole life has been one long road trip." Dean answered and he wasn't joking at all. That little statement implied so much I didn't want to think about right then.

"How about this? Before I come in tomorrow I'll stop at your motel and get you some things?"

Now he looked at me really hard and I fully expected him to tell me to fuck off. To stay out of his business.

"You know what we do." It wasn't a question. I nodded nevertheless. Ghosts and shapeshifters. I knew.

"Okay." He handed me the key. "I tell you what I need and you get it. Nothing else, no scooping around. In and out."

I wondered what he was hiding in their room, weapons came to mind, but I nodded again and listened to his instructions.


	6. Chapter 6

I was kinda curious about where the Winchester brothers stayed and yes, I wanted to peek into the life my old friend lived now. So I didn't wait until morning to pick up the stuff Dean said he'd need. The name of the motel, Pete's Inn, meant nothing to me and following the GPS instructions it soon became clear why. This part of the town I hardly knew but I knew this wasn't a place to be after dark.

The motel was sleazy at best and I wouldn't have been surprised if they rented the rooms by the hour. This was the place Sam stayed at? The brilliant young man with a full ride to Stanford stayed at a place like this?

"Seriously?" I parked right in front of the room and looked around before I got out of the car. Not seeing anybody I hurried to get to the door and fully expected the key to not work. Dean must have given me the wrong motel name or something. Of course the key worked.

When the door clicked close behind me I breathed in relief and shook off the feeling of being watched from every dark corner.

Paranoid, I know, but can you blame me at a place like that?

Even before I switched on the lights I caught the scent of the room. Old cigarette smoke, mold, unwashed bodies and a lot more I didn't want to think about.

It didn't get better with the lights on. Walls in puke green, carpet in swamp brown with undefinable strains. Two unmade beds which matched the smell, waste basket overflowing with take out containers and beer bottles, clothes lying around.

"God, Sam." I gasped. "What has become of you?"

The only thing reminding me of the Sam I knew were the papers on the desk. That could have been Sam studying back at Stanford an eternity ago.

Because it was the only thing I could hold on to I had a closer look. I skimmed through newspaper articles about animal attacks, coroner reports with pictures I didn't want to have a closer look at and copies from different books some of them written in Latin.

I wasn't sure what to make out of that so I let the papers be for the moment and went on with my actual task. Gathering the clothes I presumed were Dean's I made my way through the room. Everything was well-worn and I didn't spot a brand's name on any of them.

"Apparently that hasn't changed over the last years." I muttered under my breath and felt a little ashamed of myself. That had been one of way too many reasons I had looked down on Dean for before.

To my surprise I found two suits in the bathroom, neatly on hangers on the bar of the shower curtain, which didn't look as cheap as the other clothes. How they fit into the whole scenario I had no idea, though.

The bathroom itself wasn't bigger than a shoe box so when I turned around to get Dean's razor, the one on the right and not that sissy four blades easy shave crap on the left, his words not mine, I accidentally knocked down one of the suits.

"Shit." Hastily I picked it up, the floor was a bit too sticky for my liking, and fumbled to get the jacket back on the hanger when something fell out of the inner pocket.

"Holy shit." That was a FBI badge, an honest to God FBI badge. Sam's face smiled at me.

My mind jumped to James Bond like conclusions. For a second I cheered at my friend for making it to the FBI.

"Undercover." I nodded to myself. That was the explanation. Sam was an undercover agent.

Then reality kicked in. If Sam was an undercover agent why was he working with his brother and not a partner? I could imagine Sam at the FBI easily but Dean? Not so much. As far as I knew he was a mechanic, part-time Ghostbuster or the other way around but not a believer in higher education. And not to forget, both Winchesters had been on the FBI's most wanted list before and were presumed dead.

Then I spotted the name on the badge which wasn't either Winchester nor Carter. It read Willis. I dropped it like the black leather had burned me. Fake. It was fake. Just like the insurance for Sam Carter and everything else.

"Sam, what did you get yourself into?" I asked into the empty room. Sam had wanted to become a lawyer, how did he end up in a motel like this impersonating a FBI agent?

Suddenly a heavy knocking broke the silence. Startled I bit back a surprised scream.

"Open up!" A man yelled and hammered his fist against the front door. "I know you're in there."

He must have seen me sneaking in or he had seen the light either way playing dead would probably only lead to a kicked in door.

"Who's there?" I yelled back not quite ready to open the door.

"Manager." Came the short answer. "Open up."

I opened the door a crack and through that we eyed each other for a moment. The man in front of the door filled every cliché I could think of in that situation. Cigarette burns in his t-shirt, dirty jeans hanging low under his belly and a face like a pig, round and sweaty, over no neck.

"Listen, I can explain." I hurried to say to avoid the impression that I'd broken in or something. "I'm just picking up a few things for a friend of mine."

"I don't care who you are. Your friends …" He chewed on the words and I half expected him to spit on my shoes. "... should have cleared the room this morning. So either I see some money, now, or you better get their stuff out within an hour."

"Alright, alright." The Winchesters had other problems right now so the least I could do was to make sure their belongings didn't end up in the trash. I already had my wallet in hand, and the manager dollar signs in his eyes, when I changed my mind.

"You know what?" I tucked the wallet back. "The room will be clear within an hour." With that I shut the door right in his face. Then I started packing.


	7. Chapter 7

I cleared the room out, stuffed everything in the bags and checked twice that I really got everything. I even checked under the beds and lifted the mattresses, just to make sure.

Fifteen minutes later the room was empty and I just left the key on the table. I had not intention to face the manager again.

When I threw the bags in the trunk of my car, it triggered a memory of another car a lifetime ago with a hidden arsenal under a false bottom. I wondered if they still had something like that or if they even still drove the same car. But it had been years so most likely not the same car anymore but the weapons? Probably.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the manager coming in my direction and I hurried to get in the car and with spinning wheels I left the motel and its manager in my rear-view mirror.

I breathed easier when I reached the more familiar parts of town but my hands still shook when I tried to get the key in the front door of my house a few minutes later. I dumped the bags just inside the door and went for a stiff drink first. Not sure what had rattled me that much, the whole situation I think, but I needed another drink to finally calm down.

From my spot on the couch I eyed the bags I'd left at the entrance. Why I'd brought them in in the first place I had no idea either, the Winchester brothers needed their stuff at the hospital and not in my house, at least not yet. And I kinda feared the moment I would have to tell Dean that he no longer had a motel room but that he could stay at my place as long as he wanted. I didn't picture him as a guy taking somebody else making decisions for him well.

Deciding against a third drink I stood up and stepped over to the bags. It was none of my business and I should have respected their privacy. But c'mon, they were supposed to be dead, had been on the FBI's most wanted list for some gruesome murders and as far as I knew they dealt with ghosts and shapeshifters on a daily basis. How could I not have a look?

So I sniffed through their stuff and what I found wasn't really worth the guilty feeling in my guts in the end. In the second suit jacket – I had to hang the suits up so they won't get wrinkled, right? – I found Dean's FBI badge. How he managed to convince somebody that he was a FBI agent was beyond me, I got to know him as the brawn to Sam's brains and that didn't seem to have changed over the years. But I'd made that mistake before, judging without knowing the details, so I just set the badges aside. Bruce Russell and Kurt Willis, seriously?

Under clothes in various states from clean to dirty I found a gun which I didn't touch, I never had a gun in my hand before and I wouldn't start now, a bowie-knife as long as my forearm and two less wicked looking knives. All the weapons looked used but well cared for.

Other than that there were only the things you'd expect in a traveling bag. Personal stuff like toiletries, magazines and snacks. Somewhat disappointing. There was a laptop but that was were I drew the line. So I just folded the clothes neatly and packed everything back in the duffels. I had no idea what belonged to whom, it was a safe bet that the giraffe-legged jeans were Sam's but beyond that I had no clue, so I just tried to fit everything in the bags and get the zippers closed.

I was curious about the papers and notes I had found spread on their table but I couldn't really make sense out of them. Apparently the Winchester brothers had been interested in animal attacks. Which kinda matched Sam's injuries. However, there was some mythological stuff mixed in and I wasn't so sure anymore that it was a rogue bear roaming the woods.

I didn't sleep that much that night and was back at the hospital early in the morning. First stop was the nurse station to check Sam's file. He had shown signs of waking up over night and the night shift had given him some of the pain medication I had prescribed. He was still running a low fever but all in all his vitals looked better than I'd hoped. Maybe I could get him off the vent today.

When I entered Sam's room I found both Winchesters fast asleep, Sam pale and looking surprisingly small in the bed and Dean collapsed in the chair and my neck screamed in sympathy pain just from looking at his twisted position. Sporting quite some stubble and with dark smutches under his eyes he looked worse than Sam. He was awake before I had closed the door.

"Morning." I greeted him while he rubbed the sleep from his face. He mumbled something incomprehensible and I used the time he needed to wake up fully to have a look at Sam.

"How is he?" Dean sat up straighter.

"Good." I nodded to myself. "He woke up last night?"

"For a minute." Dean confirmed and made a face. "He didn't like the vent." Accusation clearly in his voice.

"We'll try to get him off today." I promised and had a closer look at Dean. "But first, let's de-zombify you. You'll scare him if he sees you like this. C'mon, cafeteria. I'm buying."

Reluctantly he looked at his brother but I cut him off before he could turn me down.

"Half an hour. Coffee, breakfast." I tried to bribe him. "I have your stuff in the car. You can use one of our bathrooms, have a shower and a shave. Sounds good?" And it did sound good to him that much was clear judging by the longing look on his face and his grumbling stomach. But he still hesitated.

In the end I nearly had to drag him out of the room but after one cup of coffee he looked human again.

"Dude, is this all of our stuff?" Dean had opened one of the bags and was rummaging through the clothes.

"Ehm." I cleared my throat. "I kinda had to clear out your room."

"You what?"

"The manager was about to throw your stuff out." I hold my hands up in defense. "You can stay at my place, I have lots of space. And it's just ten minutes from here."

He glared at me and was about to say something, nothing nice I bet, when then my pager went off. We both took off running at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean outran me easily and when I arrived at Sam's room, Nancy already had everything under control. By then Sam lay very still in his bed while three nurses hovered over him.

"Seizure." Nancy informed me when I bypassed a shell-shocked Dean. He stood in the doorway, clutching the bundle of clothes he was still holding on to and the muscles in his jaw worked but he didn't say a word. His eyes were fixed on the still form in the bed.

"Lasted about ninety seconds. I've already called ahead." Nancy continued. She gave me more detail while the other nurses got Sam ready for transfer. We both knew what a seizure most likely meant and within minutes Sam was wheeled out of the room.

"Where's Dr. Morgan?" I asked. If I was right, and I was pretty sure I was, than Sam would need surgery and Dr. Morgan was the only other surgeon around. Damn small town hospital.

"It's her day off. Couldn't reach her." Nancy answered with a half-hearted smile. "Sorry."

Which left me as the only one who could perform the operation. I kinda doubted that our gynecologist wanted to take over. Great.

"Chris is trying to contact her." Nancy continued. "We can wait …"

But that wasn't really an option, not without risking farther damage to Sam's brain and we both knew it.

"What's happening with Sam?" Dean ask not for the first time but I had to focus on Sam first. Dean stood in the hallway now, eyes glued to the elevator Sam had disappeared in. "Where are they taking him?"

Now with Sam on his way for a CT scan I had time for Dean. The scan would take a little while anyway.

"Sam had a seizure." I informed him. "He doesn't have epilepsy or any other condition that causes seizures, right?"

There had been nothing in his file but that was scratchy at best with more holes in the anamnesis than Swiss cheese. I doubted Dean would have left out something severe like that, however, I had to make sure.

"No." Dean confirmed but something was off.

"Dean? I need to know." I pressed. It would be coincidence for Sam to have a head trauma and an epileptic episode at the same time but it was possible. The head trauma could cause epilepsy but if he had the condition before …

"Sam doesn't have epilepsy or something." Dean interrupted my thoughts and looked me straight in the eye. I believed him. He wouldn't lie to me about something like this. Not with Sam's life at risk, that much I'd figured out myself over the last days.

"What's wrong with him?" Dean asked and his tone made it clear that he wanted, needed a straight answer.

"I think he's bleeding inside his skull and that that puts pressure on his brain." I avoided medical terms but Dean had proven that he knew what I was talking about in our first conversation. A subdural hematoma had been on my mind, and Dean's for that matter, as a possible complication from the beginning. With a head trauma like Sam's it wasn't unlikely.

"We're performing a CT scan right now to confirm the diagnosis and to find the exact location." I continued.

"You're going to perform surgery?" Dean asked, his eyes now fixed on me. I wasn't sure if this was a general question or if he was asking if I was going to perform surgery myself. What to read out of his expression I didn't know either. A plea to save his brother or a threat if I screwed up or anything in between.

"Yes, we need to drain the blood and stop the bleeding. The sooner we act …" I didn't finish the sentence. Sam was in real danger of permanent brain damage and we both knew it.

"I need your permission for the surgery."

"Of course." He sounded hoarse, close to tears. Nancy brought the form and he signed it without really looking at it.

Nancy walked me to the elevator but there was not much more to say.

"Have an eye on Dean, would you?" I asked her in a low voice. "His stuff is in my car, I offered him one of our bathrooms for a shower."

"You take care of Sam and I take care of Dean." She reassured me. Before the doors of the elevator closed I had one last look at Dean. Like a lost boy he stood alone in the middle of the hallway, the clothes clutched to his chest and his eyes burning a hole in my skull. I breathed in relief when the doors closed and the car started moving.

By this time the CT scan was done and I had a look at the pictures. I had been right. Subdural hematoma.

I went through my own preparation for the surgery on autopilot. I was about to drill a hole in the skull of my friend. I should have waited for Dr. Morgan, I know that, but she wasn't there and with pressure on the brain matter every minute counted.

I had to do it. In my mind I tried to step back from the thought of Sam. This was a patient like every other one. I wouldn't even see much of him. Just the shaved area I had to work on. Everything else would be covered by surgical drape, anyway. Just a patient. Not Sam, this was not my friend, nobody I knew. Just a patient. Just a head I had to open up, cut through skin and bone and drain the blood. Find the leak and stop the bleeding. Easy as pie.

I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. The green of my operation gown made me look paler than I was or at least I hoped that was the reason for my ghost-like reflection. I took a deep breath.

"I can do this." I looked myself in the eye. "I can do this."


	9. Chapter 9

Somehow I managed to do the mind trick. When I entered the operation area Sam had been prepared for surgery and I actually couldn't see his face which was good. I took another deep breath. Everything was covered with green surgeon drape. Even the two nurses who would assist me were almost unrecognizable under their masks.

"We're ready, doctor." One of them said and I recognized Chris' voice a bit muffled from behind the mask. The instruments I'd need lay on a tray at the side, machines beeped and there was the soft whoosh of the vent forcing air in Sam's lungs. Not Sam, the patient.

I stepped closer, observing the area I had to work on. A rectangle of pale skin, freshly shaved, surrounded by the green of the drape. Just a little rectangle. That was all. This was not Sam, I wasn't even sure if this was a person anymore. This was just a head, a skull I had to work on.

"You sure you can do it?" Chris asked when I hesitated. I gave him a short nod and hold my hand out.

"Scalpel."

After I'd made the first cut everything became clearer. I worked in precise short movements, mind focused on the task at hand. There was the bone and the matter beneath. I found the bubble of blood where the scans said it would be and I drained the blood and stopped the bleeding.

"Okay, you can close this now." I stepped back what felt like an eternity later and let Chris do the final stitching. Suddenly weak in the knees I hurried to get out of the room. I ripped my mask off and took a few deep breaths. Now my hands were trembling and I had to sit down before I fell down. My blood covered gloves left smears everywhere but I couldn't care less.

Sam's blood. I wiped it on my gown. I had Sam's blood on my hands. Fuck, just minutes ago I had my hands inside his head.

It took me a few minutes to get my shit together.

"He's on his way back to his room." Chris stepped into the washroom and took off his mask and gloves. "Looks good so far."

He smiled at me and an unspoken question hung in the air.

"I'm fine." I reassured him and I actually was. The shock was over and now I just couldn't believe that I did it. I didn't screw up, I didn't kill my friend during surgery. A stupid grin spread on my face. "I need to tell Dean."

I managed to arrive on station at the same time as Sam. Dean was at his side immediately but he stepped back so that the nurses could attach Sam to the vent and the machines monitoring his vitals.

When the nurses had left, I gave Dean a second to take in the sight of Sam and to take his hand again. While I had been busy rummaging in Sam's head Dean had taken the chance, forced by Nancy no doubt, for a shower and a shave and he was wearing his own clothes for a change. Worn jeans with thin or already ripped patches and at least three layers of shirts.

_Hasn't changed his style over the years,_ I noticed. Not for the first time I wondered how he earned his money. A long time ago he'd introduced himself as a mechanic but I had no idea if that was true or just another lie. What did I actually know about this man? And about Sam, for that matter. I knew they dealt with ghosts and shapeshifters but beyond that I had no clue. I didn't even know what had attacked Sam. Not a bear, that I was certain of.

"Don't pull a stunt like that again, you hear me?" Dean's words were whispered, not for my ears. He sounded tired and his voice was raspy as if he was close to tears. Of course Sam didn't answer but Dean seemed to be okay with that. For the moment.

"Did you shave his head?" He pointed at the new bandage around Sam's head and now he even chuckled softly. "He's going to kill you for that one, dude."

That was directed at me and I took that as an invitation to come closer.

"Just a small area. No need to kill anybody." I answered. "With the long hair he's wearing nowadays he'll be able to cover it up easily. It will grow back."

Dean gave me a little smile, understanding the meaning of my last sentence. That Sam would live long enough for his hair to actually grow back.

"How is he?" Dean looked me in the eye, bracing himself for the worst. His face was a well guarded mask but his eyes gave him away. Somewhere in there was a little boy begging me to make his world right again.

"Surgery went well. We got rid of the bleeding and with any luck there will be no permanent damage."

"With any luck." Dean huffed out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, right. What possible complications are we talking about?"

"We will know more when he wakes up." With this kind of injury it was impossible to tell. "The brain is an impressive thing, you'd be surprised what kind of damage it can comprehend."

"His brain had to comprehend too much already." Dean said in a tone that send shivers down my spine.

"There was nothing about that in his file." I tried but one look in Dean's face told me to drop this topic. Not much I could have done anyway. I had to focus on Sam's current condition and had to hope that previous injuries didn't interfere with the healing.

"He's on high medication." I changed the topic but I had the feeling that I won't have much luck with this one either. "He won't wake up over night. I have a guest room."

"Thanks, doc." Dean's eyes left his brother's face to look at me for a second before his gaze was on his brother again. "I'd like to stay here."

"I live ten minutes from here and I'm the first one they are going to call if something happens here." I tried again but Dean just shook his head.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning my pager went off. Again. I raced to Sam's room. Again. When I stormed in I found Dean and Nancy at the sides of the bed and the heart monitor beeping like crazy with Sam's heart beat skyrocketing.

"Sam. Sammy." Dean leaned over his brother, trying to catch his eye, no doubt. "Don't fight it. It's okay, don't fight it. Relax, let it breathe for you. I'm here. I'm here, Sammy."

Sam thrashed in his bed, not hearing any of Dean's words and Nancy struggled to give him the sedative I'd prescribed for a situation just like this.

Then Dean grabbed his brother's head with both hands and forced him to look him in the eye.

"Sammy." Was all he said but all of a sudden Sam stilled. Nancy finally managed to grab the infusion properly but she hesitated with the injection, a questioning look at me. I shook my head, Sam seemed to be calming down. His heart-rate dropped to almost normal but he still struggled around the tube in his throat.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean whispered, his face just inches from Sam's. "Can we get it out?" He asked louder but didn't break eye contact with Sam.

I checked Sam's vitals again and Nancy gave me the details and I had to agree, yes, we could get the tube out.

The procedure isn't fun, coughing out a piece of plastic that leaves your throat sore and irritated, but with some coaching from Dean Sam stayed calm during that and breathed in relief when the offending thing was out of his throat. I gave him a nasal cannula and for the moment he seemed to be breathing fine. I would have an eye on that and I instructed Nancy to watch out for the O2-level as well.

Sam blinked sluggishly, his gaze still fixed on his brother but he stayed awake and that was a good sign.

"Can you tell me your first name?" I asked fully aware that Nancy was still with us and that there would be some explanation necessary if Sam accidentally blurted out his last name.

"Sam." Came his answer, hoarse and dry. He didn't even look at me. However, he smiled thankfully when Dean wetted his lips with some water Nancy had produced from somewhere.

"Do you know where you are?"

Now he had a quick look around, just with his eyes and the way he didn't even try to move his head told me that this wasn't his first time with a concussion or a head injury in general.

"Hospital." His eyelids started to drop.

"It's okay." Dean reassured him with a fond smile. "You can sleep, I'm here." _Keeping watch_, was the unspoken rest of the sentence. I don't know if Nancy caught the deeper meaning behind that but I certainly did.

Seconds later Sam was fast asleep. Real sleep and not medically indicated unconsciousness.

"How is he?" Dean finally looked at me.

"He woke up, he's breathing on his own and he knows his name and where he is." I summed up the last minutes. "And for sure he knows who you are." I added with a smile. "So far it's looking good. Really good."

The wide grin spreading on Dean's face warmed my heart.

"He's probably going to sleep a lot over the next few days but don't worry, his body needs the rest to heal." I told him and had a last look at Sam's vitals. The oxygen level was not great but okay and his pulse was back to normal. He was sleeping deep and peacefully.

"When he wakes up, talk to him." I ordered. "Don't be worried if he's confused at the moment. And next time he wakes up I want to do some tests. Find out if is sensibility or ability to move is affected or not."

Dean swallowed visibly and nodded. "What are the chances ...?" He couldn't bring the sentence to an end and on his face I could read that he knew exactly what possible consequences I was talking about.

"That's what the tests are for." I deflected the question because with neural damage you can never tell. Sam could just walk out of here in a few days or he could need a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Or anything in between. "I'll know more after the tests but so far everything looks really good."

Standing close to him I gave him an assuring pat on the shoulder and to my surprise he grabbed my hand and hold it there for a second.

"Thanks, Luis." He sounded rough and his eyes were fixed on Sam. "You know, for everything."

"I'm your friend." I gave him another pat and pretended to not notice him blinking a bit too often.

I had to say, without the tube in his mouth and just the cannula under his nose Sam looked way better. Even the white bandage around his head didn't look too bad. In fact, the way his hair was sticking out it looked kinda funny.

"If you need anything, just call for Nancy." I told Dean but I was pretty sure that Nancy would take care of him if he wanted it or not. So far Dean hadn't complained about the coffee flat-rate, though.

I left the room and headed for the nurse station. Somehow I wasn't surprised finding Nancy hovering nearby.

"How is he?" She repeated Dean's question and I wasn't sure which brother she meant.

"Looking good. Both of them."

"Yeah, they do." A dreamy smile crossed her face.

"Nancy, Nancy." I raised and eyebrow but couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, I may not be twenty anymore but I'm not dead." She nudged me in the side. "Besides, I got the feeling that Dean needs a friendly face around right now."

She paused for a moment, deep in thoughts. "Haven't seen anybody else visiting him." She chose her words carefully.

"I don't think they have much family left." I remembered the next in kin part on the form Dean had filled out or rather had left blank except for his own name. And if I remembered correctly both their parents were dead and they had no siblings. But what did I know about their family?

"So it's just the two of them?" Nancy shook her head in sympathy. "No wonder Dean is so devastated."

I had nothing to add to that.


	11. Chapter 11

"Alright, Mr. Carter." Nancy said on her way out of Sam's room. "Dr. Waiden should be here shortly."

She was on first name basis with Dean so she must be speaking to Sam and that alone made me speed up my last steps towards her.

"He's awake." She told me when she noticed me. "Aware of his surroundings and coherent."

She gave me a big smile and patted my shoulder before she left. With my eyes I followed her until she disappeared in the nurse station and in my mind I wondered if flowers or chocolate would be the better "Thank you" gift. I didn't know how I would have dealt with the past few days without her and for sure Dean would have collapsed from exhaustion by now if it wasn't for her taking care of him.

Standing there and holding the door ajar with one hand I couldn't help but overhearing the conversation going on inside Sam's room. For the first time I really heard my friend's voice. It was raspy and weak but his annoyance was clear.

"Sam Carter?" He asked in a tone that made me smile. "Thought you wanted to throw that one out."

"And I thought it was a good idea to have an insurance card ready that says _Sam_." I didn't need to see him shrug. "You tend to blur out your real name when you're drugged."

"Sam Carter was a woman." Sam pointed out but his voice was too weak to fully get his irritation across.

"At least you have that hot chick from _Stargate_." Okay, that was what they were talking about. "I'm stuck with that lanky guy from _Gilmore Girls_. I look nothing like him." There was a pause and I opened the door just enough to see Dean squinting at Sam. "His name should have been Sam. He looks like a Sam."

"Dude, how do you even know _Gilmore Girls_?"

I chose that moment to stroll into the room and I pretended to not notice the sigh of relief from Dean when Sam's attention switched to me.

"You are coherent enough to complain about your fake name so I think we can skip the twenty questions." I approached the bed and took in the sight of Sam. He had some color in his face but it drained out of it and his eyes went big. "Good to see you awake."

"I … ehm … I …" He gaped at me and then turned to his brother who gave him an assuring nod.

"It's cool, Sam." Dean padded his hand and Sam visibly relaxed. There was still no recognition in his eyes but apparently he trusted his brother's judgment.

"Maybe you should check his mental state, Luis." Dean gave me a grin. "If he doesn't recognizes his own buddies."

"My what?" Sam first stared at Dean but when his brother didn't give him a hint, he turned towards me. It took him a few seconds, c'mon he had a concussion and not long ago I had to open his skull to release the pressure on his brain, but finally his eyes widened in surprise.

"Luis?" Now his mouth fell open for real and his gaze flickered to Dean who confirmed it with a nod.

"The one and only." I spread my arms in a here-I-am manner. "I'm your doctor for the day."

"Luis?" Sam asked again. "But how?"

"Changed to medicine after you left Stanford." I left out the exact circumstances, Sam wasn't really awake enough for the life changing experiences I've been through.

"You are a doctor." Sam repeated dumbfounded.

"Yep." I clicked my tongue. "And right now the doctor would like to do some tests."

I gave him an update on his medical status, he was fading fast so I made it quick, and then I asked Dean to leave so I could perform the tests. Instantly Sam's eyes flickered to Dean who already was half-way out of his chair.

"You want me to stay?" Dean asked and the tiny hint of a nod from Sam was all he needed.

"Alright. Doc, do your thing." He stepped out of the way but kept himself in Sam's line of sight. He didn't bother with asking me if that was alright and so I just started the tests.

I made it as quick as possible, Sam's eyes were already dropping and his answers became more slurred by the second and when I tucked the blanket back around his feet he already had dozed off again.

"That's good, isn't it?" Dean had seen Sam moving his fingers and toes, even lifting his legs and arms with some assistance. He'd heard Sam confirming that he felt every part of his body and that he could tell which of his toes I was tapping with my pen. And still, Dean needed me to assure him that his brother would be fine.

"He's still weak and needs time to heal but yes, this is very good." I let out a relieved breath of my own. "We'll have to do some more tests but so far it looks like he's going to make a full recovery." Usually I was very careful with words like that because you can never know for sure but back then I needed to give Dean that hope. And I was regarded instantly with a heart-warming smile.

"He's on the mend and just needs to rest right now." I had a closer look at Dean who was running on fumes for days now. "And you could use a good night's sleep as well. Like I said, I've lots of space and I am the first person they call if something is happening here."

Dean chewed his bottom lip for a second and then opened his mouth to refuse my offer, however, he was beaten to that by his brother.

"You should sleep in a real bed for once." Sam said and shifted in his bed until he was lying half on his side, facing his brother. "You look worse than I feel."

"Wow, you must be on the really good stuff if you're feeling that awesome." Dean joked and once again stepped closer to the bed with the clear intention to park his ass in that chair for another uncomfortable night.

"Dean." It was only one word but there was so much behind it that I suddenly felt like an intruder. "I'll be fine."

And that's how I ended up with Dean Winchester in my guest room.


End file.
